


Sable Haze

by ionizedyeast



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Multi, Politics, Roleswap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23088550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionizedyeast/pseuds/ionizedyeast
Summary: Occurring in place of Silver Snow.When Lady Rhea ordered Byleth to kill Edelgard, he did not hesitate.With her dying breath, as the accursed professor left the scene with the Archbishop, Edelgard made a final request of her loyal friend and retainer -- become Emperor in her stead.Perhaps, Edelgard had finally given Hubert an order he could not comply with.But at the end of the day, he had sworn to obey her every command. Including becoming Emperor von Vestra.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I've been planning this for awhile now!  
> This story takes place instead of Silver Snow, so please be prepared for Byleth to be portrayed as a villain! Furthermore, this fic starts off with Edelgard dying. It's no secret that she dies in this based on my summary!  
> There is plans for this to eventually become a Ferdibert fic, so please keep that in mind while you read!  
> Thank you for reading!

Abject horror, he supposes, is the most apt way to describe the reactions of his peers after that professor of theirs struck his Lady down. For the amount of bloodshed he and his classmates had endured, experienced and caused in these past months, it shouldn’t have come as any surprise. But when the blood staining the tiled floor is that of a classmate and friend, why, _horror_ is perhaps too light of a word.   
  
He had been ordered to. Much like the savage dog he had been trained to be, nothing more than a senseless mercenary, he struck his Lady down. By order and command of the shrew that was the Archbishop. A so called holy woman, holding herself above the very lives of _children_ , she turned the professor upon those students. All because she could not hear out and not concede to the direction of _the Adrestian Emperor_ .   
  
No one person, no, no one _sect_ should be held above that of another. All ought to be on equal footing as allies and comrades. But the Church, oh that accursed dogmatic way of thinking that came hand in hand with the Church of Seiros, they saw themselves as truly miles above the earth. Miles above man and kingdom. Perhaps in their own way, the Church even saw themselves above the goddess herself.   
  
If there truly was a goddess, she was a cruel one -- allowing her followers to stain the world with blood just for defying the sacred teachings.   
  
Of course, Hubert was no stranger to staining _anything_ with blood for that matter. He simply spilt blood that needed spilling. Not for the sake of some crooked holy doctrine.

He hears the cries of his peers as they begin to step forward, weapons drawn as if prepared to attack their divinely blessed professor and the archbishop. But Hubert gazes at them from his position crouched at his Lady’s side as he holds her up. Holds her as close as he can without adding any more unnecessary damage to the wound in her stomach. The cut is jagged, torn from the serrated bone of the Sword of the Creator, and though Linhardt is on his knees by his Lady’s side, trying to heal her as best he can, Hubert knows that the effort is wasted.

It is Ferdinand that stands between the members of Black Eagle House and the professor. Sword, axe, bow and spells prepared and ready to clash, but Ferdinand acts well in accordance to his future role as prime minister. Well, Hubert suspects as much. He’s hardly willing to audibly pay Ferdinand that compliment, but conflict resolution is something he is unmatched in.

“Professor, what is the meaning of this?!” he cries out as Hubert gazes down at his Lady. She is clutching at the fabric of his uniform, gazing at him as blood trickles from her mouth. It seems as if with every moment of healing magic that Linhardt uses upon her, the goddess herself wills twice as much life be taken away from her.  
  
Hubert pays no attention to the exchange between Ferdinand, his peers and that traitorous monster who dares call himself a teacher. He sees the panic upon Linhardt’s face as he strains himself. As he does all he can, knowing that his efforts are for nothing. Hubert knows the ache -- to do all you can and not be enough. Had he been a more compassionate person he would have spoken up, told Linhardt it was useless and accept that even his absolute best would not be enough. But Hubert already knows the grief is sinking in, and there’s no other way to go about it. But he cannot focus on Lindhardt’s panic. His Lady is clinging to him for whatever comfort he might be able to bring her.   
  
He clasps his hand over her own, yet in her struggling to remain conscious she plucks lightly at the fabric of his glove, as if pulling it away. A brief moment of shock befalls him and he understands. His hand pulls free and he complies with her order. “ _Remove your gloves, Hubert._ ” he knows she is requesting this of him and she need not speak it.

Linhardt is pushed aside and Dorothea takes his place. He slides back on the ancient tiled ground and holds himself, his expression pale as the blood upon his hands forces him to endure a horror he cannot verbally describe. Hubert knows how he loathes blood and it’s certain -- this blood Linhardt will never be able to wash clean from his hands.  
  
“Edie, come on, stay here.” he hears Dorothea coo gently as her hands hold gently above the wound in his Lady’s stomach. “We’re here. We’re all here.”   
  
Hubert gazes up and he finds the professor and the Archbishop have taken their leave. He had suspected he’d heard the sound of teleportation but he could not be sure. Could it perhaps have been that in his desire to comply with his Lady’s request, he had not noticed them walk away? (No, surely that could not be the case. He had keener insight than that -- however. . .)

Her request. Of course. Hubert’s hand slides out from the leather encasement that is his glove, revealing its unsightly appearance. Blighted and blackened from the tips of his fingers trickling down with violet and ashen streaks, his hands show the signs of hexes and curses through the ages. The skin puckers and shows scars of blisters long since burst, healed and blistered again, and his veins pulse dangerously close to the surface of his flesh. His Lady does not find his hands so unpleasant, and he sees the lightest of quirks of a smile upon her face.

He hears Dorothea let out the softest of gasps, but she turns her gaze away. As she ought to. Though she was playing the role of medic in this moment, this was a private moment between Hubert and his Lady. As private as it could be with his classmates pulling out as many vulneraries and concoctions as they could to try and apply them to his Lady to keep her with them.   
  
He knows, oh how he knows, that nothing this group of juveniles could do would save her.

Voices. All of their voices so loud and unpleasant and unsavory in this moment and as he grasps his Lady’s hand he uses the spare to wave aggressively at them all for silence.  
  
“Hubert,” he hears Edelgard speak without hesitation or stammering. “My faithful aid. Com-companion...My _friend._ ” He sees that without even the slightest of hints of pain -- perhaps she has gone beyond feeling anything at this point? -- and her eyes glow with a brightness that Hubert had not seen since their youth. Since the days long before she had been taken away from him. Her hand slips from his grasp against his chest and she reaches to his face, hand gently pressing to his cheek, brushing the long, inky bangs from his eyes. Blood streaks his pale, sullen skin, but he is unfazed. Blood has something of a natural look upon his flesh. It is only once he knows this is her blood does his expression falter and he chokes back an audible sob. (A sound he never intended to make again). A hideous, remorseful sound unbecoming of him. But no one comments. Either because they know better, or because they respect what it means to grieve.

“Yes, La-” he begins to speak formally, but this is no time for formal recourse between them. “Yes, Edelgard. I’m here.” He holds his hand against hers once more without shame, without need to conceal anything. He may be a snake, but he was not without emotion.

“I have a fi-final order for you, Hubert.” she says, wincing as she struggles to search for words.

“Anything. Anything for you. Should you ask I strike the professor down at this very moment --”

“There is no ne-need for such dramatics.” she teases (“As if you have time for jokes, Lady Edelgard!” he wants to scold her, but he holds his tongue.). “Hubert, I leave my ambitions to you.” She speaks without stammer or stutter. And her words are clear as she speaks. “In my stead, once I am gone, I hereby appoint you as Emperor of Adrestia.” And she smiles. A genuine smile, the sort that would not come from someone on their death bed. The sort of smile Hubert recalls from their youth before she had ever been taken. “You know what it is I want to achieve better than anyone. Speak to my father for guidance if you must.” And she winces. And Hubert feels her shift. He feels her trying to sit up, but he cannot let her. He holds her still and utters soft, soothing sounds to her, the kind he had once heard uttered to him in days long before he had become so hardened and cold.

“I cannot accept this.” he says, acknowledging that it must be the onset delirium of her blood loss that is dictating her wishes.

“You must.” She chokes out, as she struggles, collapsing back into Hubert’s arms once again. “You will be the Emperor in my place. See to it that what must be done is done. Make right what -- “ But she speaks no further. Her arm falls limp and she begins to cough, struggling for breath. Hubert merely lowers his hand to her face, a finger to her lips. She begins to relax.  
  
“If that is what you desire,” he says quietly, his words hardly above a whisper, as he sees the glimpse of a smile grace her lips once more. “Then I will do as you wish.”

Edelgard does not respond after this.   
  
She does not respond. Does not smile. Does not blink. Dorothea slides in close and her hand is what obstructs Hubert’s view of his Lady’s face in that moment. Her fingers place delicately upon Edelgard’s eyelids and slides them closed. The entire class is quiet. Near silent aside for the desperate, anguish struggle from Hubert as he dare not show them how much he wishes to cry for his Lady.   
  
He expects no words. He expects nothing. He expects nothing but this ache in his chest to persist as he holds his Lady’s hand in his own. Porcelain against rot. He does not speak. No one utters a word.   
  
But a gesture is taken.   
  
Standing above them is Ferdinand von Aegir. He places a hand to his breast, over his beating heart. And he bows before breaking into a kneel before Hubert. The others exchange glances before slowly the members of his class, as he is holding the body of his dear, Lady Edelgard, genuflect before him.   
  
“Emperor von Vestra.” Ferdinand says softly, although his words do not sting like Hubert would have expected. The words though. They are foreign to his ears. (He grimaces.) And Ferdinand gazes up at him, a fire alight behind his amber eyes. “If I may advise you, as is my duty, we must leave the Holy Tomb before the Archbishop and the professor return with more soldiers. It’s not safe here.”

And with his Lady still in his arms, Hubert snarls in response. “Do _not_ regard me as such. I cannot be what she asks me to be.” His peers exchange glances before rising to their feet. He is enduring a pain he cannot quite comprehend, understand or even want to understand, but there will certainly be time for this later. But Hubert relaxes as he takes a moment to look at his Lady’s body, nestled in his arms. Had there not been such a wound in her stomach, she would have looked peaceful. Asleep. And Hubert, as always, was watching over her. A sigh escapes him as he stands, lifting his Lady into his arms. “Yet, you have a point -- we cannot remain here. We are, and that is to say _all of us_ , enemies of the church as of this moment.”

“Wonderful, and here I could have spent my day doing anything else, and instead I’ve made myself a criminal.” Linhardt says with an astounding calmness to his voice, as if he had not been attempting to sustain the now dead emperor in Hubert’s arms.

“This is no time for joking, Lin!” Dorothea cries out. “The professor -- !! He - he _killed_ Edie?! What are we supposed to do now?!”

“We take our leave!” Ferdinand declares. He makes eye contact with Hubert momentarily, and that incessant determination in his demeanor almost makes his skin crawl. He supposes now is the time, if there ever _was_ a time, to allow Ferdinand’s ability to be cheerful in the face of adversity, this was that moment. He watches the flourish of Ferdinand’s hand as he clenches a fist as he assists Linhardt in getting to his feet, and put a hand upon Dorothea’s shoulder reassuringly. “It is as Hubert says, we are enemies of the church, and the clear answer is to escape while we have the chance.” But even as he does what he must to reassure their peers, the panic has still struck them all -- as was to be expected.

“Oh man, oh man -- we totally raised weapons against Lady Rhea too, didn’t we?!” Caspar jumps in, immediately losing his cool, hands reaching to the side of his head to grasp at his hair, his body shuddering visibly as he looked to the others as if any of them could be reassuring at this moment.  
  
“I am not understanding why the professor would have been turning on us.” Petra adds in, far more calm and collected than the rest of her peers. ( _“As she should be,” Hubert cannot help but observe._ _“She may not be of Fodlan birth, but her role as royalty in Brigid has steeled her for cases such as this, hasn’t it?”_ )

“Why couldn’t we have had Professor Hanneman for an instructor instead?” Bernadetta squeaks up, her back turned to the group, perhaps not wishing to look at Edelgard’s body. Hubert cannot blame her. She is not keen on being out of her room, let alone vested in combat -- let alone exposed to the bloodied corpse of her class leader.

The squabbling continues for a few moments. The ceaseless sounds of panic and disorder that sounds like a cacophony of annoyances all culminating in one singular nuisance to Hubert. And at a time where he is most unforgiving of intrusions. It’s only when he finally rises to his feet, Edelgard’s body carried in his arms does his voice raise.

“Are you all _quite finished_ ?” he declares with a voice far more booming than a man among the shadows ought ever to speak with. “Because as Ferdinand so coolly explained moments ago -- we are sitting here waiting to be assaulted by the Knights of Seiros for our insubordination. I would _highly_ suggest that if _any_ of you had even an ounce of self preservation -- we take our leave. _Now_.”

And as those words were spoken, and as his classmates agreed and began to make their exit, Hubert von Vestra spoke his first words as the Crestless Emperor of Adrestia.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DANG. 150+ hits in a day? I'LL TAKE THAT AS A GOOD RESPONSE!  
> Thank you so much for your support so far! <3

It takes more than one trip to escort the Black Eagles out of the Holy Tomb. Talent sorcerer as he is, Hubert can only transport so many people in one trip. He initially departs with Edelgard’s body and Dorothea in tow, and returns to take the others in additional trips, leaving Ferdinand for last, upon his request. “Should they return while you are away, I will use whatever cleverness I have at my disposal to distract them until you arrive!” He had declared this quite proudly, but something about it stirred a bit of an ache of worry in Hubert’s gut. He was not one to get nauseous or anxious at anything -- but the idea of Ferdinand von Aegir holding back the Knights of Seiros with cunning alone? It was almost laughable. But out of any of the members of Black Eagle House, he was the most likely to succeed at this.   
  
Thankfully, Ferdinand’s efforts were not needed as Hubert returned to the now exiled students of Garreg Mach. They had been brought to Gronder Field; utterly empty and devoid of signs of the mock clash between the houses a few months earlier. They remain upon the elevated ballista’s platform, some seated, some standing, some being Dorothea with Edelgard’s head in her lap, stroking her hair as if she were asleep. It’s a sight Hubert cannot bring himself to take in for more than a moment. It gives him hope, and that is the last thing he wants in this moment.

“Emperor von Vestra.” Ferdiand speaks up after they stand in silence a moment but Hubert is quick to wave his hands, dismissing his formality.

“ _ Hubert _ will do.” He sneers as he takes in the slow rolling in of clouds overhead. A storm. Oncoming and imminent, much like the rage of Adrestia after they found out of Edelgard’s death. Oh, and how that rage would be directed not just at the church but at him. Hubert was wholly responsible for this, now wasn’t he?    
  
He shook it off. The clouds rolling in declared the first of what would be many storms of the Great Tree Moon. It was not quite late in the day but not quite early. Early evening, he ascertained as he studied the way the wind picked up, licking at his skin with a fierce sting. Had it been warmer, it would have been pleasant but nothing in this moment feels like it could possibly bring a comforting touch.

It is then that he notes as he feels the air growing thick with moisture that the tip of a lance is pointed toward him, aptly aimed at his throat as the just seconds ago, regally poised Ferdinand has posed himself with his weapon drawn against him. “ _ Hubert _ , then.” he says, his stance combative. “Before we go further, you  _ will _ explain yourself. Just what is it that you and Edelgard were planning? Why would she appoint you Emperor when she was not yet Emperor herself!”

Had this been any other occasion, Hubert would have laughed. Scolding and chiding Ferdinand for his insolence but he merely raises his hands as if admitting defeat to the would-be prime minister. “I see that Lady Edelgard was cautious enough to even keep everything from you. Very well.” He musters a low chuckle, but he knows this calm front cannot last for long. “If a short answer will suffice, she sought to abolish the church for all its wicked misdeeds and mispractices, and had you an iota of compassion, after seeing how willing the Archbishop was to strike her down for defying the church, you would agree with her plans.”

He feels the air around Ferdinand’s lance shift and lower slightly but it does not pull away. The rest of Black Eagle House has turned their gaze to Hubert, likely brimming with questions and ideas. But the wind is picking up and rain is about to be upon them.

“But how could she appoint you Emperor?” Ferdinand’s inquiries continue and Hubert rests his eyes; they are closed so that he may formulate his thoughts.   
  
“She and I returned to the Empire, and upon her request, she asked her father to step down. Now should you require additional information, I would highly advise we find shelter, as freezing in the rain is hardly what I think any of us would like to do once night falls.” And as if willing it into existence, the rains begin. Slowly with just a drop or two before the downpour is upon them, coming down in torrents.   


* * *

They find an abandoned cottage, which is far more than they had been expecting. The interior is bare bones. A few crudely made pieces of furniture, but a fireplace is present, offering the students a chance to get warm. They rummage through the cottage procuring some old, albeit usable, firewood that gets tossed within the fireplace quickly. Hubert ignites it with a quick sigil and the entire blaze crackles to life. The cottage smells of mildew and decay but it’s far better than being stuck in the rain.

They lay Edelgard’s body out. It’s a matter of what to do with the now fallen Emperor. Her body cannot just be abandoned but they can also not be carrying her with them while they conclude what to do. Hubert does not want to think about giving her an improper burial, and decides he will have to return to Adrestia with her body as quickly as possible. He sits on a chair, crooked and wobbly but better than nothing, as he studies his peers removing whatever outer layers of their uniforms that they could while still remaining decent. They begin to hang articles of clothing out by the fire to let the heat dry out the fabric all while trying to stave off the chill from whatever dampness had remained clinging to their bodies.

“Alright, Hubert.” Ferdinand says, pulling up one of the other chairs, while the others search for other means of sitting, resorting on crates, logs and the remains of an end table. He does not pull out his lance this time but instead crosses his arms over his chest in anticipation. “I can believe that Edelgard had a goal in mind to stop the church; considering what we’ve experienced tonight, I can only agree with the ideal that the church has gone corrupt.” He glances to Edelgard’s body and a grimace falls over his paling face. “Edelgard is, er, was, merely a child to the Archbishop. To request the death of children? That’s unspeakable! But before I can pass my own judgement, I must know -- should we flee Garreg Mach with you?”

“I think if you have any self preservation, you ought to.” Hubert says with something akin to smugness tugging behind his eyes. He dare not smile, but he does find it much easier to speak now that he does not need to keep secrets from his classmates. “Have you not paid attention to how much the people of Fodlan remain subservient to the Church of Seiros? Honoring the every word of the Archibishop and her Knights? Do you really wish to live your life being ordered to strike down every non-believer or heretic the Church deems unworthy of life?”

Of course, it was far more elaborate than this but Hubert does not mind dumbing it down for his classmates. Perhaps it’s something of a mercy. They had each endured quite the horror on this day and simple, easy to digest mouthfuls of information was  _ probably _ the best course of action.

“And just what do you get out of this, then?” Ferdinand asks, his expression steeled and eyes focused forward. “Surely you have your own ambitions that allowed you to share Edelgard’s desires?”

“My desires had been, and always will be hers. As she spoke with dying breath, she assured me I knew her goals better than anyone else and I was to take her title to ensure her dreams came to fruition.”

Ferdinand exchanges glances with their peers, and for a moment a silent deliberation occurs among them. Was Hubert to be trusted? To what extent? Was Edelgard’s goals worth abandoning Garreg Mach for? How could they be certain? All questions Hubert knew they were asking in the quiet.

“Shall I continue?” Hubert asks, interrupting the unspoken deliberation.

Ferdinand offers one final glance around the room before he nods. “We have all night.”

And so Hubert speaks, revealing his Lady’s goal and her desire for war against the church, and all that would prove to be useful to the students of Black Eagle House. He spoke with an eloquence he had not realized he’d possessed (perhaps he’d picked it up from Edelgard somewhere down the line) and a dignity that could only be attributed to a von Vestra. And such, he spoke into the evening whilst the storm raged outside. There was no chance of the Knights of Seiros coming this far for their class in this sort of weather and for now, it was as if they had all the time in the world for Hubert to regale the course of action.

* * *

As the fire begins to dwindle, as does the faith the Black Eagle House students have in the Church. And slowly they each begin to fall asleep, leaving Hubert awake and alert to his surroundings, and alert to his own emotions. It was time for him to truly process what he had experienced that night.   
  
His mind replayed it over and over. The sharpness to Lady Rhea’s command. The swift, unyielding motion of the professor. The declaration of Edelgard to stand down as he approached her. The way her voice halted when the scraping of bone against weapon as the Sword of the Creator pulled free from her body. The splatter of blood upon the stone floor. The way Lady Edelgard had stumbled only for Hubert to catch her within his arms before she began to collapse.   
  
He could have acted a moment sooner. He could have placed but a hand upon her shoulder to pull her back. He could have done anything else. She was so diplomatic in the way she spoke. There was no reason for such violence to be the response to Edelgard’s involvement. Funny. Funny how he was willing to commit such acts of violence for her ambitions, but he could not fathom her falling as the result of violence to be worthwhile from the Church.

Resting upon the floor, back to the wall, he lets out the briefest of chuckles before he brings his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. And he allows that chuckle to evolve into the sob he’s been holding back. The sob he had swallowed and stifled back in the Holy Tomb. His head buries against his knees and he allows himself to weep. He does not need to justify his anguish. Lady Edelgard, his Emperor and his friend was dead. And he was so very alone.

“Emperor -- er, Hubert.” Ferdinand’s voice suddenly catches Hubert’s attention and her wrests his face from his knees quickly and regains his composure. “I’ve decided I will trust this course of action.” 

What could constitute a sniffle is Hubert’s initial response to Ferdinand’s confirmation before he lowers one of his legs to lay flat against the wooden floor of the cottage. “Oh? And what convinced you? Finally accepted that Lady Edelgard’s wishes are absolute and unless you wish to turn your back on the Empire, you would be wise to take this course of action?” He can only grin in response. It’s an acidic, nasty little grin that he often wears when he aims to put others in their place. But the way Ferdinand looks at him within the shadowy cottage, his eyes bleary and lips pursed in the slightest of frowns -- it forces Hubert to relax his sneer.

“Hardly. Though I had no intention of returning to the Church considering what has occurred. No, ah,” He lifts a hand to his face and rubs at his eyes. It is always astounding to Hubert to see Ferdinand von Aegir without his bravado. To hear him soft spoken and reserved and to witness him mournful. It’s almost a welcome treat. But Hubert can see (as he is no fool) that Ferdinand’s calm is his own way of experiencing sorrow. “It is because I trust your sincerity. I had never thought you were capable of tears, but I’ve just now heard you --”

“You heard nothing but what you wanted to hear.” His words bite at the silence around them. “Lost in your own woes. I suspect you’re imagining things.”

“Even you are capable of being sad, especially considering our circumstances.” Oh how soothing Ferdinand’s words were for someone who actually wished to hear them. Ever the motivator. Ever the optimist. It was nearly disgusting. His gut twisted with the frustration and rage he often felt whenever someone undermined Lady Edelgard and how he wanted to snarl his irritation with Ferdinand loud enough for all to hear, this was neither the time nor place. Surrounded by their classmates, sleeping as best they could in preparation for their final and brief return to the monastery in the hours before dawn, Hubert kept his tone quiet, yet. . .   
  
“Are you  _ quite _ finished?” he growls under his breath. “You’ve won! You’ve surpassed her, just as you’ve always wished! How much longer must you feign your grief in an attempt to hide your absolute exhalation that you have  _ won _ ?!” Though his volume is low, the message is loud and clear. Disgust is positively the correct term for his feelings toward Ferdinand in this moment. Disgust that this slime that called itself a noble could quite possibly be  _ celebrating _ Lady Edelgard’s death. 

Hubert found that his words were actually quite tame, considering what he wished to tell Ferdinand, but truly, the harshness of it all became clear as von Aegir’s amber eyes grew wide, and then softened in response. He tore his gaze away from Hubert, focused at the floor, or perhaps the rip in his pant leg. For a moment, it appears as if he were not going to speak, simply acknowledging Hubert’s words as truth. The way his mouth opens, closes, opens again and lingers momentarily. The way he licks at his lips while mouthing the words he wants to say. It infuriates Hubert. This silent celebration of Ferdinand von Aegir over the death of his dear Lady Edelgard. He ought to run back to the Church if he was so adamant about surpassing her.

“You can still mourn a rival.” Ferdinand says lowly, his expression distant, somewhere far away. “Yes, it is true, Hubert. I have outlived her. But I can hardly call something like this a victory. Do not think for a moment that my previous ambitions mean that I am unable to grieve for her.” He pulls his focus away from whatever fantasy he had become locked into and turns to face Hubert. A determination, quite unlike the one he wore when speaking of his desires to be more than Edelgard could ever be, wove on the forefront of Ferdinand’s face. “Though I viewed my relationship with her as a rivalry, she was a friend to me before all else. To deny me this chance to grieve is cruel, Hubert.” He inhales, slow and deliberate as his chest puffs out wearing a new breed of confidence. “Should you believe my calm is a facade for a victory, then I think Edelgard misjudged how well you can read people. I am human, and I grief in my own way, as do you.”

How Hubert wishes to respond. How he wishes to silence Ferdinand and his speech. But he speaks with such conviction. That sort of trait that Hubert cannot help but respect within him. So he allows him to continue speaking. Allows him to infuriate him further with this unnecessarily verbose explanation of his grief.

“So I ask, before you choose to unfairly believe that I am not grieving, to consider your own humanity. It is fine to deny your own grief, and I will be the last person to judge you for it, but you cannot assume that my own demeanor means I am not suffering. I believe there is good in you Hubert, but if that truly is the case, you ought to prove me wrong.”

Hubert watches (no, he  _ studies _ ) Ferdinand as he stands before him. He sweeps into a bow, likely out of respect for Hubert’s newly earned title and steps across the cottage to join their peers. They all slept as best as they were able, finding safety in numbers, and safety in being surrounded by those they trust. Then there was Hubert. Sitting upon the floor of the opposite end of the cottage with only a corpse for company.

He couldn’t quite say he was surprised.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no i didn't need to look at the wiki before writing this chapter because it's been a while since i played Black Eagles and need to lore check. what are you talking about

It’s around four in the morning when Hubert begins to rouse the first of his classmates to return to Garreg Mach. Dorothea is first to wake and assures Hubert she has very little she needs to retrieve. Just a few small, sentimental items and a fresh change of clothes. Something other than her uniform if she can manage it. She went without for so long that she has very few material attachments. Even working for the Mittelfrank Opera Company, she learned to keep her possessions meager. He can appreciate this. Most nobles (himself included, to a respect) have too many possessions. Too many material goods to render them humble. He grimaces; he can only  _ imagine _ what frivolities Ferdinand owns.

Hubert knows that he will exhaust himself with these endeavors of transporting the students of Black Eagle House back to the monastery and back to their hideout in Gronder Field. He knows that although his peers have become suited for combat, the travel back to Enbarr on foot will become tiresome. He has no possessions at Garreg Mach that will prove useful to him. He and Edelgard made sure to burn any of their plans before making their move; their dormitory rooms were going to be searched, he could be sure of that.

“You’re staring,” Dorothea says, her tone just slightly more blunt than he was accustomed to hearing. She crouches on her knees and pulls out a small, drawstring bag from beneath her bed and begins to open up a few drawers in her dorm room. “Didn’t Edie ever tell you that’s impolite.”

“It was not directed at you, merely at the space around you.” Hubert reacts quickly -- he had not been staring at her. In fact he’d been attempting quite the opposite, trying to look at everything but what she was procuring for their trip to Enbarr. “I’ve simply not been in the room of a commoner, let alone a lady.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” she says with a slight wink, but Hubert can see how she has forced the lighthearted reaction. “Maybe if you soften up a little there can be future occasions.”

“I have no interest in spending extended time in your living space,” he quips back but he does soften as she suggests and utters his next words nearly sheepishly. “My apologies, I do not intended to sound, ah, dismissive?”

“Hubie,” she says as she lifts up a small locket and instead of placing it within her bag, clips it around her neck. “If you need to drop that front while you grieve, I don’t think any of us are going to think differently of you. If you need to be harsh, or if you need to be weak, I don’t think any of us would put you at fault. Grief hits us all in different ways.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Of course I was,” Dorothea looks up from her bag as she puts various articles of clothing into it. “I always keep an ear to the ground, whether it’s for gossip or secrets, or well,” there’s a pause as she stands upright. “Anything I can use to keep myself safe.” The look upon her face is distant as she wraps herself up in whatever it may be that keeps her lingering. Hubert sees this is an invitation to ask her what she means, but he is in no position to pry into her life. Why should he be looking to exorcise someone else’s demons when he clearly had his own monsters approaching?   
  
And by monsters, in this case, that could be translated as the Knights of Seiros.

“We can address this matter later,” He barks in a low whisper, hand reaching to clasp around her wrist. Dorothea jolts, nearly yelping in response and he studies her -- genuine fear. Not from the approaching Knights outside her door, but from his gesture. And he stops. He knows that look. That look of terror of a hand too abrupt and harmful; a look of sudden and sincere withdrawal and submission to the owner of said hand.

And so instead, he turns his hand over, an open palm for her to reach toward. An offering, not a command. He offers it to her for her to take. He does not grab for her and order her to depart. He offers it for her to escape.

“We must leave.” he says, lowering his voice to a gentle request. “I presume you have all you need?”

And Dorothea scans the room, the color returning to her face, her cheeks once again warm with the light she naturally exudes. She inhales as she takes it in. Takes in a last look at the home she had claimed as her own. And her gaze turns to Hubert and it is upon his hand. Her lips twitch and form into a gentle smile as her fingers slip within his grasp.

“Let’s make Edie proud.”

  
  


Linhardt proved to be rather difficult to persuade upon returning to the dormitories. He insisted he could easily warp there himself but when he yawned and said that it took too much energy out of him to do it flawlessly, Hubert concluded that Linhardt could not be permitted to act quickly and accurately enough. He was quite adamant about taking most of his books with him but it took Hubert informing him he would need to carry each and every tome, and could not rely on the others to aid him, well, Linhardt’s tone changed rather quickly and he settled on three preferred texts along with a particularly plush pillow. Flames bless small miracles that Linhardt, much like Dorothea was not much one for material possessions. 

Caspar was likely the easiest to work with. He just wanted fresh clothes and a small selection of familial related possessions that he confessed he would be “dead” if he didn’t return them back to his father. Hubert, for one, was quite glad that Caspar was rather in and out with his decisions and was far more eager to return to the group than Hubert had expected.

Bernadetta proves to be challenging, but as was to be expected. Hubert grants her more time because if anyone among them were to find it difficult, it’s her. He is not lacking in compassion, no matter what anyone might think. He studies her as she sits upon the edge of her bed and picks up a small needlepoint craft she was working on and proceeds to make a few stitches before she pulls out a shoulder bag (likely used for classes, he suspects) and sticks it inside. 

“You know,” she speaks softly, her gaze in her lap. “I think this might be the first time you haven’t scared me. You always look like you’re ready to kill me and I’m always afraid you might be planning on doing that as soon as I have my back turned! But this time. . .” Her voice trails off as she starts to pick up various crafting projects (all frivolous, if Hubert has any say to it, but he is not about to critique her when she is speaking so calmly for once). She plucks a small, stuffed bear from her bed and places it in the shoulder bag. “You look so sad.”

Did he? He catches a glimpse of himself in Bernadetta’s mirror and he’s not quite sure he sees it. He is the same as ever. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, a slightly pointed nose, piercings eyes -- he does not see sadness on features. Perhaps it is due to him being unable to see his own feelings. He had spent so long learning to mask them in favor of efficiency, he sees no lingering sorrow upon his face.

“Maybe you can’t see it,” Bernadetta pipes up exhibiting an astounding amount of bravery for someone as meek as she. “But I see it. I always see you looking so threatening, so I make note of these things! You don’t look threatening right now. You look - you look heartbroken, Hubert. And - and I’m really sorry!”

He turns to gaze at her; she has brought her bed’s pillow to cover her face - hiding. Naturally. But this apology from her. It is not typical. It is not her usual apology for merely existing. It is the apology of condolence. Another moment to study himself reveals the truth to her words. He notes the small changes since the day before. Bags beneath his eyes from the lack of sleep. The lack of color to his lips. The way his browline did not bear the same level of conniving scowl. The threat of a frown at his cheeks. 

“Perhaps you may be right.” he comments, analyzing himself within the mirror as the shuffling of fabric alerts him to focus on Bernadetta’s reflection behind him. “But that is no reason to believe I am unable to make decisions in Lady Edelgard’s place.”

“Did I accuse you of that?! Oh no, I definitely accused you of being unable to help us!” Her face buries again in her pillow, and thus lures him to approach her, pushing down the plush cushion to study her face.

“I said no such thing.” he says with an odd air of politeness. “It may be quite the opposite, in fact. This sadness you see may be just what keeps us alive in our return to Enbarr.”

Bernadetta does not move, but her eyes dart around feverishly, likely plotting some sort of escape from Hubert’s looming figure. But she merely lowers the pillow further before putting it into her bag.

“You’ll keep Bernie safe?” she asks, voice hardly above a whisper, not daring to look at Hubert’s face as he responds.

“It is what Lady Edelgard would have wished.” he says, straightening up as he stands back, allowing Bernadetta the space to stand. “And so it is what I wish as well.”

  
  


Petra too makes his life easy as they arrive within the dorm room. She retrieves but only what appears to Hubert as a ceremonial weapon of sorts, some clothing and approaches him quickly. She did not bring anything crucially important to her to Garreg Mach, having left anything she found truly precious back in Brigid. Small mercies, Hubert things, that royalty of other lands can be so easy to work with.   
  
Ferdinand however, is the individual he has difficulty with. Because what he desires to retrieve is not simply in his room, but rather the stables.   
  
“Absolutely not.” Hubert insists at their arrival, his nose crinkling at the scent of whatever cologne Ferdinand had most recently become smitten with. “We are not taking you to say goodbye to a horse. It will hardly even notice you’ve left.”

“This is preposterous, Hubert! You brought us all here to collect what is most precious to us, and you cannot do me this favor of allowing me to at least say farewell to the horse I’ve been riding this past year? I knew you were cold, but this is practically heartless!”

“This is not a matter of heartlessness, this is a matter of keeping you  _ alive _ .”    
  
Had this exchange occurred closer to dawn, Hubert might have entertained the idea of Ferdinand getting to say farewell to his faithful horse companion, but dawn was creeping upon the horizon, leaving them both far more exposed than either of them desired. But Ferdinand had insisted on being the last one to retrieve his belongings, citing that if he had to go without, it was “but a noble’s duty!” (Hubert had simply rolled his eyes and scoffed at such a declaration. According to the church none of them were of nobility and were but scoundrels beneath them).

“I would think that at this point, you would have some empathy in that sad husk you call a heart.”

Hubert’s hand pressed against his eyes, rubbing at them with something akin to disdain. He was not a bleeding heart like Ferdinand was, and he would have been happy to accept the heartless status, had it not been for this newly obtained status. Hubert exhales and approaches Ferdinand, backing him toward the door of his bedroom. He is not much one for physical confrontation but Ferdinand has been testing his patience since his little speech about grief. And mourning. And sorrow -- as if he could even comprehend the sort of heartache Hubert was enduring. 

“I ask, do you have any sort of plan for how you could feasibly walk from these dormitories to the stables without being caught? I’ve surveyed the surrounding area, and the monastery is  _ swarming _ with Knights trying to locate us. And you wish to risk our safety to say farewell to a horse?” 

With his back against the door, Ferdinand remains frozen still. His flesh paled, and his eyes bear into Hubert’s skull like hot coals in a furnace. Ferdinand’s lips part and a word begins to form, but a heavy thunking of weight against wood interrupts them. Silence falls upon the room and from the other side of the door they hear the echo of knights within the hallway.

“I heard that creepy Von Vestra is the one leading them now.” a voice interrupts.

“That kid with the gloves who was always with Lady Edelgard?”

There’s a loud, barking laugh. “Hey, no need to call her that anymore! She raised her weapon against Lady Rhea! The new professor took care of her! She wanted to wage war against us and the Church!”

“Really? That’s why we’re on patrol so early? To capture her?”

“Capture? No need to capture someone who’s dead! But it looks like all of Black Eagle House was on her side and they all fled yesterday. Vestra’s leading them now, I hear. So the first sign of any of them, we’re on order to use whatever force necessary to apprehend them.”

“Whoa, for real? Isn’t the princess of Brigid among them? Couldn’t that start an incident?”

“No bigger of an incident than the one she’s already involved in. She joined a rebellion against us already. As far as I’m concerned, this is the end of friendly relations with Brigid.”

Hubert notes the sneer on Ferdinand’s face; it seems the both of them were quite keen on eavesdropping on these loudmouthed guards. Their eyes meet momentarily, and he feels the rattling in that withered heart of his. Horrendous. What a time for him to find himself momentarily captivated by his peers dumbfounded pout and the sheer panic that pried behind his amber eyes. Anxiety was almost a good look on Ferdinand. Although, Hubert admitted that he preferred the ego flaunting persona. It was at least comical. Yet, he could see the appeal in this expression of uncertainty.   
  
He can practically feel the way Ferdinand’s heart begins to race as he finally chooses to speak.

“I believe I understand your concern.” Ferdinand says as he is silenced again by voices within the hall, interrupting the tension between them.

“Hey, looks like the Bergliez room’s been touched recently!” It’s a third voice and this is cue enough to both of them to make haste. The thud of multiple boots and feet along the wooden floors causes Hubert to pull free from the door frame.

“ _ Hurry _ .” he demands. “So help me, if I must order you as  _ emperor _ to gather your belongings quickly, I will.”

“Please don’t say it like that.”   
  
As Hubert steps away from the door he stands against the desk across the room, gesturing at the whole of Ferdinand’s possessions. “Don’t say  _ what _ ?”

“Order me like that,” Ferdinand murmurs as he approaches the desk, shooing Hubert to the side. “It is. Unbecoming.”

“Says the one who chose to kneel before me and address me as  _ Emperor von Vestra _ .” Hubert scoffs as he allows Ferdinand access to his desk to retrieve whatever it is that he thinks is so important.

“I knelt because it is my duty as the future prime minister to show the Emperor the utmost respect, even if I do not agree with the person in question.” There’s a pause as he retrieves a few envelopes. Letters, it appeared. “And I’ve yet to determine what course of action I should take with you. I cannot challenge you as a rival and equal like I had with Edelgard, and I cannot approach you like the adversary I had often seen you as.”

“You are unsure of what type of respect to give me now.”

“In the matter of just a day you’ve ascended from being but Edelgard’s right hand, to my Emperor. I’ve had to make peace that I’m to advise  _ you _ . Of all people. I must play a role as a guide and as council with a man of whom I’ve never liked! Do you know how frustrating this is for me? Along with my own grief over losing Edelgard, who was first and foremost my  _ friend _ , I must now contend with this struggle!” The desk door slams and Ferdinand approaches Hubert, his panic stricken eyes alight with that fire that often accompanied von Aegir’s determination. He waves the envelopes about, lightly striking Hubert (non-violently, of course) against the chest with the paper.

“And you speak with such conviction that you have not yet grasped that I  _ too _ am experiencing a circumstance that I am ill fit to deal with.” While he had made sure to keep himself as composed and gentle with his other classmates, with Ferdinand he could be a bit more brusque. His hand closes around Ferdinand’s wrist, ceasing his harmless batting. His grip is not so much tight, but it is enough to prevent Ferdinand’s flailing about. “Consider for a moment, if you will, that I am a man who works among the shadows. Who operates behind the scenes. I lie, and cheat and weave masterful tapestries of deception and commit atrocities to further the goals of the Empire. And I’ve now been thrust into a position where I must be under constant, watchful eyes. You may have to adjust to a new Emperor to advise, but I must now acclimate to an  _ entirely _ new way of life once we return to Enbarr.”    
  
Ferdinand wrests his arm from within Hubert’s grasp and tucks the letters within his breast pocket and begins to retrieve a few smaller knick-knacks of sorts. He clears his throat and opts to begin speaking, but the tension within the room keeps him quiet.

“Your change is temporary. You will adapt. Your challenge is short lived. Mine is not so simple. Mine is permanent. Mine is my  _ entire life _ . I spent my life preparing to be by Lady Edelgard’s side!” Hubert’s voice raises and he finds that he is now the one yelling between them. His cool, calm demeanor stripped away. “I was raised with the knowledge that I was to aid her no matter what the cost, and now I am presented with a life where I must take her place. Had it not been her bidding I would have declined, but I am dutiful to her to the end. Now I ask of you -- do you still wish to act as if I  _ am not in complete shock _ .”

He falls silent and stands against Ferdinand’s desk once again. He leaves his words lingering in the air, awaiting a response from the other student. He hears only a sigh from Ferdinand before his voice reacts to him. “And you have to ensure first and foremost that we make it safely to Enbarr.”

“That is the first item on the agenda, yes.”

“What are we to do with Edelgard’s body?” Ferdinand asks, voice lacking the pride it had sported previously. “We cannot simply leave her in that cottage.”

“We may need to for the time being.”

“That’s preposterous!” Ferdinand’s passion returns to his voice. “If the Church finds her --”

“I will craft some sort of illusion upon her body, leave her hidden in that cottage. After we return to Enbarr, I will alert the necessary sources of her demise.”

“Absolutely not.” Ferdinand waves his hand dismissing Hubert’s idea. “If it gets out that Edelgard has fallen, this will only cause panic and fear within Adrestia. It will cause morale among the people to drop and they will lose faith in their leaders. And should you return to Enbarr, declaring yourself as Emperor in wake of her death, it will only paint you as a possible assassin --”

“That is positively ridiculous. The people of the Empire would hardly believe me to be an assassin.”

“Look at you, Hubert. Had I not known your dedication to Edelgard and merely seen you in her shadow, I would simply not trust you.”

“Hm, yes, you do have a point. I do exude a rather threatening, distrustful aura, don’t I?”

“Precisely -- and if you will allow me permission to advise you, I suggest we only alert Lord Ionius while we conceive of a plan. Edelgard did suggest you speak with her father, didn’t she?”

“But what power would that even grant me? His power is limited even before she took the throne.”

“He can guide you in places that I cannot! He can vouch for Edelgard’s decision and with his aid, we can assure you can appropriately take the title of Emperor with little to no resistance.”

“Quite the optimist you are, but I’m sure we’re facing almost entirely resistance for the foreseeable future. You know we will have to remove your father from power, don’t you?”

“I had anticipated you might say that.”

“Do you agree?”

“I don’t... _ not _ agree.”

“Your father was in opposition to the Hresvelg name, Ferdinand. It would be wise if you agree with me on this.”

“Then yes, I agree -- but we are still at a loss as to how we are going to care for Edelgard’s body. We cannot leave her here.”

“I already said I would cast an illusion upon her body so it remains unseen.”

“I was, ah, thinking about the more  _ natural _ state of things.”

Silence.

“Hubert, a body decays over time.”

“Then we best move quickly.”

The both of them remain in the fortunately less tense room, neither of them saying a word. In a sense, Hubert was grateful for how quickly Ferdinand was adapting, although he could do without the sass. He began to speak again, urging Ferdinand to finish up so that they could depart, but it seemed as if during their discussion they may have been a bit too loud for their stealth mission.   
  
The door behind them rattles and after a second of clamoring, the door swings open. Within the entrance stood several guards, lances brandished and pointing towards the duo in the room. Three knights were visible in the immediate line of sight but it was clear beyond them, the hallways were filled.

“Don’t move Adrestian scum!” one of the Knights declares, jabbing his lance a few times in a threatening gesture.

“Adrestian scum? Already? Hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and we’ve already earned ourselves quite the notoriety.” Hubert cannot help himself but chuckle -- in the face of adversity he is once again stripped away of any need for emotional response. He anticipates a quip from Ferdinand, backing him up in support, prideful in his home.   
  
But he hears something quite different.   
  
“Oh goddess, thank you!” he declares practically  _ groveling _ before the knights. “He had been holding me here against my will and refused to let me seek any help! I did my best to make noise to alert you to his presence but I’m afraid this  _ accursed _ enemy of the Church had cast Silence upon me!” He grasps the hand of the Knight who had shaken the lance into the room, forcing the weapon to fall to the ground. “I am blessed beyond words for your interference! I am now safe -- please, apprehend this traitor!”   
  
“That’s not how --” And it clicks. Before Hubert can find the fury within him to strike Ferdinand von Aegir down, he realizes what he is experiencing.   
_   
_ _ Von Aegir, you absolutely brilliant bastard, _ Hubert thinks to himself.    
  
For being the eel he was all these years, he was still often surprised when others undertook his own tactics. And for Ferdinand, it was quite the surprise. It was most unbecoming of him, but Hubert truly had to give him credit for the effort. Perhaps he had been planning it.    
  
“Oh, how unfortunate for you,” Hubert sighs, with just a little added bravado (as he took a page from Ferdinand’s book as well). “That you have had to turn your back on me, just as your saviors arrive.”

And Ferdinand gazes back at Hubert. And how that fire of determination is lit behind his eyes once again. And oh, how Hubert wants to offer him a smirk. A knowing one to respond to the obvious ploy Ferdinand has begun. He had never been one to consider Ferdinand von Aegir as a spectacular actor, but there is a first time for everything. And with a crackling of dark magic -- Hubert took the invitation to escape,   
  
He would be damned before he admitted to how impressed he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey. next chapter we get some ferdie pov. nice


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while the whole world irl is in social isolation, ferdinand is too.

Espionage is not Ferdinand’s field of expertise. There was a reason Hubert was often left to do this sort of dirty work; infiltrating enemy territory and exploiting their weaknesses for Imperial gain. Ferdinand is too much a people pleaser and a socialite to be skilled even in the slightest in internal invasions. But there was truly a first time for everything. And this first time was truly to test his mettle.

“Why on earth would I know about his plans?” Ferdinand announced, his arms crossed over his chest and leg lifted over the other as one of the nuns placed a cup of tea before him (lavender tea, not his preferred type, but it would soothe his nerves). Although he was being questioned, he was still nobility and ought to be treated as such. And he made it abundantly clear that he did not offer the monastery any ill will.

He truly hoped his acting skills were polished enough for this to be convincing for the Knights of Seiros, otherwise he would be dead where he sat.

“Hubert von Vestra and I detest one another. While yes, I was truly heartbroken to witness Edelgard falling, but I could not simply agree with her ideals or with Hubert’s sort of attempt at exacting revenge? Or whatever it is he might have planned!” He lifts the cup of tea from the saucer and takes a sip. It’s oversteeped but he will not be so cruel as to point this out. It was brewed for his benefit, and he would not disrespect the attempt.

There’s a thunk as the door to the holding cell (well, in truth, it was actually the office of Jeralt Eisner that had been converted into a holding room for Ferdinand in the meantime) and the Knights of Seiros are dismissed. The room clears and none other than the esteemed professor walks into the room. He is not dressed in his ordinary attire. His coat is removed and his shirt is but a loose fitted blouse tucked into trousers. It seems he had been roused from his sleep earlier than anticipated and hadn’t the time to prepare himself.

  
He stands over the table, noting the fine array of porcelain and morning pastries supplied to Ferdinand as he gestures to the seat opposite him.

“May I?” he asks, pulling a nod from the von Aegir youth.

And so he sits, eyes darting about the room in a studious analysis. Ferdinand cannot help but feel a pit of fury within his gut. Within his very soul. He wishes he could positively throttle the professor for having struck down Edelgard. He wishes he could condemn him for his actions. For his misdeeds. The absolute dog that he is, sitting before Ferdinand as if he were nothing but nobility himself. Horrid. But Ferdinand holds his tongue. He is distinguished and he will not be shaken.

“I don’t believe I was going to be given the option to decline,” Ferdinand says as he retrieves a small piece of bread with various berries baked into it, using a knife to brush a small layer of butter upon it.

The professor offers him a weak but understanding smile, pouring himself a cup of tea himself. He lifts to sip it, and unlike Ferdinand, he is quick to admit his opinion. “Oversteeped,” he comments before setting the cup down. “You would be correct. And you also know that I can’t let you out of this room until you answer some questions.”

“The Knights already asked me what I knew of Hubert’s plans and I’ll say the same to you.” Ferdinand lifts a fork and begins to use its edge to break off a piece of the warm bread upon his plate. “I know nothing of Hubert’s plans. We did not get along. I would trust him only in battle and nothing more. And he did not care for me or how I conduct myself as a noble -- ridiculous, if you ask me.”   
  
“Yes, I suppose that would make sense.” the professor comments. “But we cannot look past the precarious situation you were discovered in this morning.”

As Ferdinand had started to take another sip of the oversteeped tea, he found himself choking momentarily, shocked at the chosen words of the professor. “Pa-pardon me? Precarious?”

“I’m sorry, that was not the correct word to use.” he says. “Suspicious might be better. We don’t have a why, how, or when you returned to your room. And had you been there all night, why hadn’t you shown yourself to to erase yourself of suspicions?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Naturally that would make sense!” Ferdinand reacts, covering his mouth, as he had been mid-mouthful of the fruit bread (unlike the tea, it was positively delightful. Such a delicate sweetness in balance with the warm, nutty flavor of the bread itself? Excellent!). “I returned after I witnessed Hubert and the others of Black Eagle House fleeing -- I do not know where they went. I could not agree with Hubert wanting to escape, so I returned to my room. I was afraid, had I shown my face, the Knights of Seiros, knowing I was a student of Black Eagle House would see me as an enemy and apprehend me, so I chose to return to my room until morning when I was going to leave and speak with Lady Rhea herself.”

“But that very scenario has happened anyways.”

“Unfortunately,” Ferdinand sighs, staring at the other slices of the bread upon the table, wishing to take a second one, but knowing it to be polite to allow the professor to select one first if he so desired. “But I believe it may has been most fortunate in this case. You see, during the night, Hubert appeared within my room, leech that he is, and tried to persuade me to join him.”

“And why should we believe that you haven’t joined him but are remaining behind?”

Oh, well. Of course the professor would catch wise to that.

Ferdinand only laughs. “Were you not paying attention, professor?” Ferdinand can only chuckle as he sips his oversteeped, bitter tea. “I loathe him. And I am sure the other students of Black Eagle House will be apt to see him for his slimy filthy ways as well.”

“But you are not giving me any reason to believe you. Why would you say you are fortunate to have been visited by him?”

And Ferdinand leans forward. Behind his eyes, the fire that Hubert so silently adored grew into a blaze. A bonfire that Ferdinand could not wrest control over. “Because he dropped a hint to me about where he was going.”

“And where might that be?” the professor asks, pausing before sipping his tea.

“He said ‘the place the plague began’ and I can only assume he meant Remire Village.” A brow quirks on the professor’s face and he finishes his sip and sets the cup back on his saucer. 

“Seems a long way to go to return to Enbarr.” he comments as he slowly stands. “But I can see that. Taking a roundabout way to return to the capital city -- Remire would offer amble opportunity for looting and gathering supplies and securing the aid of bandits and locals for protection on the trip.”

And the professor nods and turns from the table.    
  
“Ferdinand, you’re free to go -- but keep your guard up. You may have my trust for the time being, but I cannot guarantee the trust of the Knights.”

And as the professor departed the room, Ferdinand could only slump in his chair, exhaling heavily.

Dignity be damned.

* * *

With permission granted, Ferdinand is escorted back to his dorm room by some less than enthused Knights of Seiros. Both of whom exchange grumbled utterances of their dislike of the Empire now that they know of Edelgard’s intentions. Ferdinand wished to tell them off; they knew nothing of her intentions, nor did he for that matter.

Ferdinand is pushed rather unceremoniously into his room by the guards who stare him down like they were dogs prepared to pounce on some fresh, dangling meat. “You are to remain in this room unless escorted. You attend meals at the preapproved time on this list,” a scroll of parchment is shoved into Ferdinand’s hands. “And you are to follow that schedule unless Lady Rhea or the new Professor says otherwise. You will continue to attend your classes, but in the Golden Deer house. You may not access the library unless it is for classwork and you must have a Knight accompanying you.”

“Heavens,” Ferdinand muses with something of a sneer. “You treat me as if I am a war criminal myself, but I’ve returned here of my own volition have I not? This is hardly an acceptable means of treating an ally.”

“You’re an enemy until proven otherwise.” the second Knight speaks up. “You are a young noble of high standing in the Empire and we can’t risk you turning tail and fleeing back to Enbarr, can we?”

“Enbarr isn’t even in the Aegir region,” Ferdinand scoffs. “If you were Knights worth your salt, you ought to understand that the Aegir territory is to the eastern edge of the land --”

“Sounds like you’re pretty damn prideful in your heritage for our so-called ally, huh?” the second guard jeers once more. “You know, maybe something unfortunate might happen to you while you’re under house arrest. One of us might slip and,” he makes a threatening jab with his lance. “Whoops. There goes your eye.”

“Petty threats will do you no good here,” Ferdinand says, inhaling a breath in such a way that he tries to allow the air in his chest puff out a bit. “Speak all you like, but I will not lose my composure in the face of someone who wishes me ill. I am still a noble, and I intend to keep my head calm and my heart light.”

“Tch, guys like you are all talk. Had the Professor not stepped in wishing to spare your life, Lady Rhea would’ve requested your head. That’s two Adrestian pigs down --”

“You’re rather quick to pass judgement on the entire Empire.” Ferdinand says, taking a seat on his bed. “But given how you’ve treated me so far, I’m not surprised at how easily opinions can be swayed for an entire region. Now, if you do not mind, I would like to endure my house arrest for the day in private so I don’t need to be exposed to anymore crude backtalk.”

The second of the Knights begins to argue against Ferdinand’s words but the first holds him back. There’s a tense moment of eye contact between Ferdinand and the first Knight before he offers a firm nod, stepping out into the hallway.   
  
There is a heavy thud and the audible clinking of keys as Ferdinand can be quite sure -- he has been locked in.

Once he could be sure he was alone, Ferdinand let his entire weight fall heavily back on to the bed. He sighs, breath loud and melodramatic, arms splayed out wide. With eyes shutting he mutters to himself -- “What to do, what to do.” But he dare not speak too loud. He was a prisoner after all and prisoners often had eyes and ears on them from all angles. What a shame, Ferdinand quite liked to deconstruct his quandaries verbally.

He pulls out the schedule he was handed to by the guards. He was to wake by six each morning, arrive at the dining hall for breakfast at 7. Attend stable duty until 9 (much to his relief this appeared to be penciled in between breakfast and class time. Previously it stated that Ferdinand was to return to his dormitory until class began at 9 each morning. Perhaps he  _ would _ get the chance to say farewell to his loyal steed after all. Take that, Hubert!). Class would commence from 9 until noon when the class would break for lunch. Class would resume at 1:30 and continue until 3:30. At 3:30 he would alternate between additional stable duty, consult with the Knights about what knowledge he had regarding the Empire’s plans, and free time where he was to have an accompanying Knight present. A note at the bottom stated if Ferdinand could prove his loyalty to the church in this months time, he would be granted more leniency with his free time. He was still allowed to speak with other students during this period, but he suspected...most would want nothing to do with him.

Goddess, if Hubert could see him now. Ferdinand von Aegir. The quintessential noble. The individual whose portrait would appear in dictoriaries next to the word. Reduced to house arrest and slinking around behind the scenes. How things had already changed in not even twenty-four hours.

Edelgard was dead. Hubert was the new Emperor. And Ferdinand von Aegir had been arrested.

He did not realize that he’d begun to laugh.

Since when had he been suited for Hubert’s tactics. Disappearing behind enemy lines. Lying and deceiving and manipulating people to further the goals of Lady Edelgard and the Empire. Ferdinand was hardly equipped for this sort of lifestyle. Surely he could lie beautifully (goddess knows he’s charming enough that the lie doesn’t even need to be clever, but he’s not even good at it.). But he was hardly the cunning mastermind that Hubert was when it came to covert operations.

Even Hubert’s first act as Emperor was covert -- escape Garreg Mach and return to Enbarr with the intention of ruling behind the scenes. It was so. So oddly appropriate. But, had Edelgard really become the new Emperor? Surely the Seven Houses would have put a stop to something like this? Unless her first act as Emperor involved exile? Usurpation? Ferdinand could not say for certain. But what he could say was that. . .for as much as he and Hubert disagreed on how to assist Edelgard, Hubert always knew how to steer things in a favorable direction for every party involved.

Well, at least the relevant parties, that is.

How they had all taken a step forward in this hierarchy. But Ferdinand could not quite say if he was of a new position. He was still to advise the Emperor of the best course of action when things may appear dire. But this was Hubert. Stubborn. Cold. Calculating and merciless  _ Hubert _ . Ferdinand’s lips quirked into a grimace. Goddess, he had tried to be friendly with the man before. Truly. Even with a little wine in his gut and his constant need to be social, Ferdinand even in his best of moods had never been able to crack the shell that was Hubert von Vestra.   
  
Well, he nearly did. Once. 

_ He blames Dorothea, primarily. It had been her birthday. She kept putting cups into Ferdinand’s hands insisting that he lighten up and live a little and “stop being such a noble for once.” And though he repeatedly told her he had a duty to uphold to remain stone faced in the chance of an attack of some degree, he still found himself ceasing his noble duties after he found himself slumped in a velveteen armchair, finding it exceedingly difficult to look at anyone without commenting about how lovely they were. _

_It was when he found himself staring at Hubert that evening, absolutely blasted and unable to figure out that the lovely spectral man before him was,_ in fact Hubert von Vestra, _that he realized he’d had far too much. But perhaps Hubert had too, because the compliment from Ferdinand (who had called him “a celestial harbinger of calamity and beauty”) was taken rather positively and lead to Hubert rather slyly saying something akin to “I never expected I would actually be charmed by your attempts at poetry.”_

_ “Perhaps I can charm you in other ways.” Ferdinand had slurred out smoothly as he stood from the armchair, arm extended for the other man to take his hand and follow his lead. Hubert hadn’t given Ferdinand a verbal response but he took his hand nonetheless and the two of them vanished into a hall closet but five minutes later, only to disappear within Ferdinand’s dorm room another ten minutes later still.  _

_ He doesn’t remember much other than the haze. He remembers the visible flesh of Hubert’s neck. He remembers the taste of his pale, somewhat clammy skin upon his tongue. The surge of heat in his head, moments later, when Hubert’s hand had grasped his skull by the roots of his hair while Ferdinand was on his knees before him, head between his legs -- _

Ferdinand comes back to reality, a soft utterance upon his breath -- “Fuck,” he mutters lightly as he pulls his blankets over his head, squirming in place upon his mattress. He truly did loathe how this memory would surface now and then, disrupting every other thought he had.

He could never truly forgive Hubert for that night. Even if he was the instigator of it all. It was a night that he regretted and wished to relive over and over again.

* * *

Ferdinand wakes before the guards even arrive for him and he gets himself ready for class before they even show their ugly heads. Thankfully, the visitors for today to escort him are far more reasonable. They treat him with respect, instead of a common animal like the Knights from the day before. They’re kind. Ask if he slept well. Inquired whether he needed more time before he was escorted to the dining hall for breakfast. Ferdinand couldn’t help but express his preference for these visitors. 

He eats breakfast as he always has, but this time, it is not without the glares and stares of the other patrons, his peers included. He tries to eat his meal in peace and silence but he cannot stave off the crawling upon his skin. Ferdinand finds himself making eye contact with Lorenz Hellman Gloucester from across the dining hall, but his gaze is quickly directed away from Ferdinand. If anything, that causes such a sting in Ferdinand’s heart. He considered Lorenz a good friend and to see him turn his gaze away in such disgust? It pained him, needless to say.

He was in no mood to stick around the dining hall longer than needed and as soon as he was finished he approached the Knight overseeing him and asked to be escorted to the stables for his morning work at the stable. He knew he would be far more at ease among the horses and he would prefer their company currently. But even among the horses, he still found that Ingrid and Marianne were both present and from the looks of it -- neither of them were too keen on seeing him among their stable working ranks.

It was due to the grace of some charming that Ferdinand was able to finally convince the Knight by his side to escort him to the classroom. He is granted brief access to the Black Eagle House classroom to retrieve his class supplies but he isn’t allowed to linger. He’s guided to the Golden Deer classroom almost instantly where he is instructed to sit in the last row of the classroom in an empty desk. He is not to speak to any of the other students unless they approach him first.

He had not realized how lonely this could be.

He sits in silence; it’s so unlike him. He remains still as the other students begin to file in. Most do not regard him. But the ones that do merely sneer and turn up their nose -- they already know what occurred between the Black Eagles and the Professor. How could they believe the Professor was the innocent party in this? He struck down one of his own students? With no hesitation?   
  
“You have quite a lot of nerve returning to Garreg Mach,” he hears the voice of Lorenz from above him as he tries to simply organize his class supplies.

Ferdinand merely exchanges a look with Lorenz -- a pitiful, tired look that bears none of the usual spark. “I am allowed to disagree with my class, aren’t I?” he asks.

“It matters not who you disagree with, it matters where your loyalties lie. If I may be frank, I am disappointed in you, Ferdinand. I had always thought you to be loyal to your home and your title. Yet, you’ve abandoned it in favor of groveling before the Knights of Seiros, pleading for amnesty.” Lorenz’s tone is stern, lacking in the naturally jovial tone he sported when he and Ferdinand often talked.

“I am,” he pauses. “Sorry my actions have lessened your opinion of me.” Ferdinand sighed delicately, knowing the truth behind Lorenz’s words. He was loyal to his home and to turn his back on it caused him some sort of nausea. Was it nausea? Anxiety? He could not tell. But to know Lorenz was so displeased with his course of action at present? Oh goddess, it ached. Perhaps, once Ferdinand betrayed him and the rest of Garreg Mach by returning to Enbarr once he had his window of opportunity, maybe Lorenz would think highly of him again.   
  
Or maybe he would think worse of him.

“However, unhappy as I may be with your circumstances, I am pleased to see you alive. Perhaps once I’ve gotten over my frustrations with you, we can discuss matters over tea?” Lorenz’s tone becomes a bit more lively again. “Although don’t think I will be so kind to you during our tea, I have a few choice words for you before we can pick up where we left off.”

At this, Ferdinand can only offer the lightest of smiles. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Lorenz.”

Lorenz is quick to sit once Claude enters the room. And Ferdinand can feel his stomach begin to knot. He can’t be sure as to why he feels so apprehensive with Claude in the room now but he looks at Ferdinand with a brow raised before commenting “Ah, right. Forgot we had a new addition for a while.” before he settles into his own seat. 

And Ferdinand sighs to himself. As he studies the students present. How they chatter and mingle and interact with everyone as if they weren’t facing a whole new chapter of history in the making. And for a moment he realizes -- he is homesick. Not for the Adrestian Empire. Not for the Aegir territory. Not even for his own bed. He is homesick for the six other students that had survived Black Eagle House.

He does not pay attention during class. He merely sketches in his notebook, trying to replicate the drawings from his textbooks. He does not even notice when his classmates get up to take an afternoon break for lunch.    


“Ferdinand.” He’s suddenly alerted by the sound of a voice belonging to someone much smaller than he. Gazing up from his sketches, he finds himself looking at Lysithea von Ordelia, clutching a spellbook to her chest. “Is it true?”

“Pardon?” Playing dumb.

“What happened to Edelgard. Is it true?” She repeats the question, causing him to turn his gaze from her to his guardian Knight. “Eat with me, I’d like to talk to you if you’ll do me that courtesy.” He stares at the Knight again, questioning the authority if this is permitted. He gets a shrug in response.

“I’d be delighted, Lysithea, but I, ah -- I don’t think you’ll like to hear what I have to say.”

“Believe me, the rumors I’ve heard are probably worse.”

* * *

Ferdinand is fortunate enough that the Knight watching him seems to be very intent on taking a break around the time that he takes his lunch with Lysithea. He finds that he is not picky with what he wants to eat, settling on this spicy fish dish he had once heard Flayn recommending. Lysithea joins him a moment later and sits before him with her own mean and wastes no time.

“Tell me the truth, Ferdinand -- did Lady Rhea have the Professor kill Edelgard?”

The words come from her right as he slips a spoonful of the spicy, marinated fish into his mouth and he is unsure whether he nearly chokes from the heat or from how direct her question is. He coughs, choking slightly on the mouthful. “Certainly approaching this quickly, aren’t you?”

“I’m serious. I need to know if I can trust him or not. Even if you may not be in allegiance with the Empire, I still would like to know for my own benefit. How can I be sure I can trust someone if they will simply kill one of our friends and classmates without hearing her out?” Lysithea seems unphased by her bluntness as she speaks a bit of meat upon her plate with a fork, cutting it precisely with her knife. “You might have returned to Garreg Mach, but you don’t strike me as the sort of person who would approve of the Professor and Lady Rhea’s course of action.”

“You, ah, may be correct, Lysithea -- I cannot say I do approve of the Professor’s course of action. While I did not approve of Edelgard’s course of action, nor do I approve of the idea of the Empire turning on the Church of Seiros, I cannot say I support the Church’s decision in this either.” He is surprised at how easily the words come out of him and he sees a little smile tug on Lysithea’s lips.

“I knew it.” she says something triumphantly. “You’re undercover.”

“You don’t know that.” Ferdinand is quick to respond but Lysithea is quicker.

“I do know that. You’re an atrocious liar and anyone who spends more than five minutes around you knows that you have sworn to follow Edelgard to the end, even if you don’t agree with her, you wished to be there to advise and aid her as she needed -- you’re so much like Hubert, but far more social. You know that, don’t you?”

“He and I are nothing alike.” Ferdinand sneers quickly, but Lysithea holds her hand to her mouth, partaking in the lightest of laughs. 

“Perhaps not in personality, but in your ideals and dedication, I’d say you’re very similar.”

“We could do without the comparisons, Lysithea. Why do you need to know the specifics regarding what happened in the Holy Tomb?”

Lysithea then falls silent and her eyes dart back and forth momentarily. Studying for prying ears and prying eyes who may already be suspicious of Ferdinand already. Then, she leans across the table, lifting herself up off her seat in order to reach even close enough for just Ferdinand to hear.

“If what you confirmed is true, and Lady Rhea did have the Professor kill Edelgard, then I want to come with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boop boop follow me on twitter maybe @ionizedyeast  
> I RT a lot and talk about my new cat


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